


Field Tenderness

by bonestilts



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-18 18:43:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonestilts/pseuds/bonestilts
Summary: The transition from feelingehtoahtowards Ethan was frustratingly blurred.





	1. Happened Once in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> i promise it'll get better (at least, i hope it does)  
> thanks for the read/kudo/comment

Sitting at a desk staring at numbers all day wasn’t exactly what Benji thought of when he decided to join IMF; he thought of it more as running around with guns, shooting baddies, maybe a few car chases, finally pushing himself to get into shape, eating well, seeing the world. 

Those kind of things are what drove him to apply. Although, his first few years at the agency was exactly that. Sipping far too strong coffee (doing anything he could to stay as attentive as possible), whilst sifting through mountains of metadata—encoded excrement, and decrypting data, all for the field agents who were entirely unaware of the amount of effort it took to process the shit.

“Hello, name’s Dunn. Benji Dunn. Technician for—uh, actually, ‘m more like intelligence specialist for IMF. Nice to meet you.” is not what Benji wanted to have to repeat every time he met someone new, he didn’t want to even include the word ‘technician' in his introduction (intelligence specialist sounded a bit cooler). 

The word reminded him of the worthless IT guys at his high school who he had once envied because he thought they got to mess around with computers all day; turns out they just sat there and waited for a call to come in so they can turn devices off and on. 

Benji subconsciously held his history of neglect against every single field agent he worked with since he became one himself, except for Hunt, of course. He was arrogant, most definitely an ass, but he gave Benji his appreciation and took the time to bloody thank him for his work in the office. He may have been sitting down all day—forcing the butt shaped dent in his chair to deepen as each hour passed, but he was keeping those on their feet alive. And he deserved to get a thanks every now and then. In turn for being given praise, he didn’t hold his grudge against Hunt. 

Getting in shape was—well it was a bit difficult, harder than the application to become an agent in the first place. Benji strived to look as good as Carter (but a more manlier version) or Hanaway, wanted to _feel_ as good as Hunt. He drank his green juices, the ones that looked far too vibrant to be actually good for your body, ate his nuts here and there instead of a handful of Doritos, attempted at completing more than ten push-ups, mastered the art of planking, bought a fairly expensive weight system for his apartment and took up running every morning at 6:45am.

Benji had the whole field agent thing down, done and dusted. Knew exactly how to behave (at least thought so) when on the clock and memorised everything there was to be said when in a sticky situation. The only thing stopping him from becoming the best agent the IMF had ever scene was—first off he wasn’t Ethan-bloody-Hunt, nor was he a particularly fast runner, or very good at dodging pillars when chased, but he was affectionate. 

Benjamin Dunn was a dependant person, he became attached to people he cared for, he was a seeker for their validation in his actions, wanting their feedback and most importantly: respected their opinions about him. 

That became a big problem when it came to being in Ethan Hunt’s team. 

During his time in the office, Benji was aware that it was a well known fact around the IMF that The Legendary Ethan Hunt didn’t fuck about, he was made of solid steel and had bigger balls than any other mammal before his time. He single handedly took on a flaming helicopter when he was in his 20s and set the record for fastest agent on foot, as well as most talented motorbike rider. He was warned about, and more often than not had his face projected on every monitor Benji passed.

“Did you hear about the senator’s theories on Hunt being a terrorist? Well, not really theories, but he’s got some hella good proof. I wouldn’t be surprised if we came in tomorrow to be told he’d been disavowed, probably for the seventh time too.” 

“I heard he killed three Mongolian children out of cold blood. Apparently he’d just lost his right mind after witnessing his teammates being slaughtered by Roxburgh. I read the case, it was gruesome as fuck, dunno what I would’ve done.”

“I bet he’s the one we’re all looking for. For such a smart-ass he could pull it off, deceive us into thinking we’re searching for some deadly criminal when really its him framing some poor, scared homeless man. I bet that’s true, honest to god.”

It would go on and on, the gossip, the stories, the suspicions. If Benji were still in grade-school, he probably would have cared. He didn’t have the time to interact with their crazy conspiracies, at least not when he was secretly on the phone to the bastard every other week, trying his best to understand the rushed voice on the other end.

Co-workers either hated or loved the guy. Benji didn’t actually have an opinion on him, unlike everyone else, until he was was officially introduced to the man back in ’05 whilst helping Declan Gormley unnecessarily hack into some fancy elevator (he really could have just used the buttons like a normal person). 

Benji remembers it like it was yesterday; Hunt shook his hand with power, Benji noticed that they were similar heights, his gaze was held straight ahead of him, then immediately noticed how fit the other was—definitely not similar weights, took note of how different he looked when he wasn’t squinting and how much smaller his eyes looked when he did, green eyes—or possible grey-blue, Hunt clapped him on the shoulder once and turned away right as Luther raised his eyebrows at Benji, who took it as “he’s a lot to take in at once, I know”.

Since then Benji has been on constant phone calls to the agent, trying his hardest to direct Hunt to where his wife was being held hostage in a foreign country, not that he knew at the time, and was even invited to their going away party. Now he was being chosen mission after mission to participate in his team, it was starting to prove as difficult. 

It’s not that Benji doesn't like Ethan, he _really_ does like him. He assumed they were technically friends now, they’d worked together long enough (and it only took a few days for Benji to declare friendship). It was just that Benji had started to care for him, to the point where it was unsafe for him to be around the agent. If there happened to come a time where Benji was in charge of saving the world—he’d thought this out a lot and it always ends the same, and that perhaps included having to terminate Ethan along the way, he wouldn’t hesitate in risking the lives of every single living soul on earth just to keep Ethan safe. There was no doubt about it. 

The first time they crossed the line was in Dubai, Benji was still relatively new to the field. He wasn’t new to Ethan, however, their friendship was rounding up to its sixth year anniversary (not that he’d been counting). Benji had Brandt to keep him company and Jane to calm down whilst Ethan went chasing down their target in the middle of a sandstorm. He never has trouble staying relaxed when Ethan’s life is on the line, it happens so often it was one of the first things that he learned to manage. 

The team had been in the other room, far away enough that Benji didn’t even consider being heard a red light. Ethan had been showering, or shaving, he couldn’t remember, but he was definitely shirtless. Benji also had no clue why he’d entered in the first place but found himself endlessly grateful, and scared shitless, when Ethan took the first step and advanced on Benji, cornered him against the wall—the bit he didn’t tell afterwards was how much he enjoyed that part—they groped like teenagers; touched, rubbed, bit, necked until they were both panting too hard to tell the other to go further. Ethan had a leg between Benji’s thighs, a hand grabbing at his bare hip, having pushed his khakis down an inch, and the other hand gripping at the back base of his neck, tilting it to allow his mouth the best angle. 

Benji took his sweet time to erase of any evidence in the bathroom connecting to the main room once out of Ethan’s quarters, either the team had excellent pocker-faces or they hadn’t suspected a thing; because they didn’t bring it up for the rest of the mission. The entire thing was left unsaid by everyone, and looking back on it now, years later, Benji regretted not talking about it with Ethan.

The fact it happened bothered Benji that following week, he recalled it distracting him so badly that he had a difficult time hitting the right laptop keys, it was the cause of him tripping up every now and then, was why he'd accidentally butt-dialled the target's number and allowed them to eavesdrop on their plan to assassinate them that very day, was the final link as to why the team yelled at him for setting the skin tone nine shades darker on the mask machine, ruining their mission entirely (in style, though). It wasn’t worth the effort worrying about, but Ethan hadn’t shown any signs of acknowledgement since. Benji wasn’t too sure if that was a good or bad thing. 

The transition from feeling _eh_ to _ah_ towards Ethan was frustratingly blurred. 

It easily could have happened on his first phone call to Ethan, back when he was sprinting around Shanghai and he forced himself not to feel anything when Ethan called him by his first name, despite it already happening earlier that week. Maybe it happened when he was on his first real mission with Ethan in 2011, not that Ethan could have possibly known it was Benji slouching over the screen controls of the Russian prison he was handling, but seemed to know exactly who it was anyway and showed through his kiss gesture towards the security camera. Benji swore to himself he didn’t smirk. Or when he continued to call Benji by his first name throughout the mission, no matter how much Benji insisted it disturbed him—no one called him ‘Benji’ in the office, so why in the field? And why by Ethan? 

Maybe it was as Ethan grabbed his arms when he fucked up in the Kremlin, when it still existed, or when Ethan had the audacity to comment on how he looked at the opera—on that fateful night in 2015, or his reaction when Benji yelled at him for being an idiot and not letting him help, for not letting Benji be his friend. Maybe it was when Benji took the steps by threes so that he could get to Ethan as fast as possible, who was lying half dead, soaked, on the dirty stone of some underground area, when Benji felt his heart momentarily stop at the sight of lifeless Ethan, at the thought of losing his leader—both in work and life. Maybe it shifted when Ethan made that certain expression as Benji looked down at him, grateful and overjoyed that he was breathing and alright. The smile that only just reached one corner of his lips and showed off a few teeth. 

Or he could cut the bullshit and admit that it most likely changed because Benji had simply gotten to know the man and had unmistakably become overly attached to Ethan Hunt (that was the safest word for it, he'd decided), and feared knowing it would cost him his life one day. Benji didn't like to label, labelling would be unprofessional and dangerous. 

To keep it easy for himself; he left the answer to any feeling related questions blank. To summarise, Benji tried to avoid getting attached to as many people possible, as an agent, and unfortunately as a man too, it made him vulnerable. Ethan Hunt made him the most vulnerable man on the planet. 


	2. "No Pwoblem"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brandt picks the worst times to interrupt Benji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall know i dont have a beta so please excuse all mistakes

It wasn’t as bad as Benji had first thought; returning back the office. There were always the pros and cons, but for the most part, it wasn’t all that bad. His desk buddies who he’d gotten to know quite well years ago had since moved on in their lives—this was when he was out ‘seeing the world’ with the one and only Ethan Hunt, and he felt surprisingly lonely when he took his place at his new desk. It was big, sure, that was a plus, but it was empty and even worse, there was no one around him. For some reason they’d situated him on some empty-ass level full of tower cases, system units, massive CPU fans and whirring motors. 

He continued to work at his desk for the next month, trying hard to avoid any contact with Ethan as much as possible, all he had been told was that he’d gone severely undercover for a solo mission. It needn’t be said that no one should try and contact Ethan whilst he’s in this state, working, that there were to be no distractions from what had to be done. And Benji respected that, respected Ethan’s dedication to his job, but it was hard to just cut the man out of his life so suddenly. Even if it was only for work.

Whilst waiting for his next mission, Benji would wake up from these spontaneous black out moments to find himself having dialled the first four digits of Ethan’s personal line into his key pad. He’d have to quickly put down the phone and go for a walk outside to force himself to forget the urge. Sometimes (and guiltily) he woke up a sweaty mess in bed, after having dreams about the guy, who he hadn’t physically touched—apart from hug or two, for more than three months. It was driving Benji mad. 

He’d suspected some feelings to arrive at some point, it had always been a possibility at the back of his mind, “how funny would it be if I started to like _like_ Ethan? haha” he’d think some days. And it was true, Ethan had always been very handsome to Benji; ever since they first met he had thought that. It was his smile, Benji was convinced, and the way he held himself upright, the way he looked at him, the sound of his voice first thing in the morning, so early that the sun hadn’t even come up yet and Benji’s back was sore from sleeping on a wooden floor, the masculinity that vibrated off of his body, so strong that Benji could practically taste it in the air. For god’s sake, he’d be lying if he said Ethan didn’t turn him on. 

Benji had just hoped that if he pretended to hate Ethan for as long as possible, he could fight off the drop of his stomach whenever Ethan looked at him a certain way—despite knowing it was damn inevitable, or the sudden break of sweat at the back of his neck whenever Ethan decided it was a good idea to rest his hand on Benji’s knee during brainstorming. 

And for some time, it actually worked. Luther made fun of him for it, secretly, but his negative behaviour had to stop because it started to visibly affect Ethan. Benji would try to glare at him during missions, to train himself from banishing those sinful thoughts whenever they’d be put together on night duty. Benji would attempt to make his coffee the wrong way, to piss him off and create the illusion that Benji _definitely hadn’t_ memorised how he took it, then decide to tip it out and make it correctly out of guilt and undying affection. 

Now the feelings, urges and thoughts, had finally caught up with him, after their few mishaps over the years of accidentally (was it?) breaking the rule of friendship and stepping over the delicate line into dangerous territory. 

Benji tried not to run them through his mind while he spun himself from side to side in his new desk chair; tried not to remember all the times he’d let what he’d been so carefully hiding away for ages take control and threaten to ruin the incredible relationship he’d built with Ethan during his time at the IMF. But how could he not? If he broke his own promise every night whilst lying in bed, what harm would it make to do it again now, sitting at his desk on an empty floor? 

Benji put his head in his hands, elbows on the wood, and let the memories of each heated moment flood through his yearning mind. 

The second time he’d lost it was at the safe-house (more like boat) in Vienna. 

It was hours after Ethan had commented on how Benji looked in his tux, but that didn’t stop him from replaying the words in his mind throughout the entirety of the mission; trying to figure out if he’d actually said it or if Benji imagined it. Ethan had pointed to a duffle bag, said there were spare clothes inside—Benji never got to find out for he never had the change to change into them. 

Benji was itching to get out of his clothes, it was hot inside the boat and his shoulders were stiff due to being on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He was alone, positively secluded, with Ethan Hunt, and had fought his way into staying with him, which meant having to sleep on the bunkbed below of him. 

“Where exactly in Morocco is she located?” Ethan had asked him, the light from the screens creating a blue hue to his cheeks. Benji marvelled at the way it made him look cooler, a temperature he strived to become.

“Casablanca.”

Ethan nodded and made his way closer to Benji, to retrieve the passport and cash he’d placed on the table prior to their argument.

Benji continued, “And if we’re planning to head there next, we better go out and buy some summer clothes because it’s gonna be bloody hot.”

“Shopping shouldn’t be a problem, no one’s too hot on our tail at the moment. Hey, speaking of hot, is it just me or is it boiling in here?”

“Definitely not just you, I’m just about sweating my damn balls off.” 

Ethan laughed and began taking his blazer off, heeling off his shoes at the same time. Benji stared and Ethan stopped his movement only when he was unbuckling his belt, to look back at his friend with raised eyebrows. 

“What? Have I forgotten something?” 

Benji had shaken his head furiously, his mouth slightly ajar. “No—no, I just, what’re we doing right now? Are we—uh,” 

“Oh, well, I’m going to bed.” Benji didn’t move, "We’ve a long day ahead of us and I think its best that we sleep now and plan flights tomorrow.” 

“Right, right. Yeah, of course. I’ll just pop off to the loo then, and bring this with me—“ Benji trailed off, reaching up to the top bunk to get the duffle with the spare change of clothes in it. Ethan held up a palm and gave Benji a plain look once he’d turned back around.

“There’s no toilet down here, sorry.” 

Benji remembers precisely how fast his brain cogs had spun to figure out a solution to his pathetic problem, for he knew one thing and one thing only; there would be no way that Benji was going to change in front of Ethan, in their tiny cabin with no other rooms or doors. It was hilarious to look back on now. 

“Okay, that’s fine, I’ll—uh, just head up there for a moment, won’t even be a minute,” 

Benji clutched the bag tighter and headed for the exit, the sliding door that they’d come through but found Ethan standing in the way instead, a hand rested against his chest, heart beating unevenly. Ethan stood _too close._

“I can’t let you do that, it’s unsafe for you to go back out there. Even for a minute.” he said.

Ethan held steady eye-contact, he was close enough for Benji to count the colours in his eye, it made it harder for Benji to breathe properly; but he tried his best to ignore the warm hand pushing into his fucking chest and attempted at humour to soothe Ethan’s intensity. 

“Weren’t you listening when I had my massive agent spiel earlier? C’mon Ethan,” Benji forced out a short-lived chuckle, “I can fend for myself. You don’t need to worry about me locking myself in a bathroom to change clothes.” Ethan wasn’t budging and Benji was close to begging, “And I thought you said—uhm, that no one was too hot on us, or something?”

Ethan broke out into a smile, Benji remembered how it made him feel like his feet had lifted off the ground, how his stomach had dropped so far down, he’d been surprised to not hear it hit the darn floor. 

“Sorry, Benji. Can’t take any chances, change down here. I can’t take my eyes off you for the rest of the night.” Dear lord, did he even know what he was saying?

Benji let out a particularly uneven breathe, more like a sigh. He would have been embarrassed to do something so obvious in front of Ethan but he didn’t even hear it, there was so much blood rushing past his ears that the only thing he could focus on was the fact that he was certain Ethan could feel how fast his heart was thumping. 

Then suddenly, Ethan changed the subject completely, “Top or bottom?”

That was it, that was what needed to be said for Benji to break. He didn’t care if Ethan was referring to the goddamn beds, all he heard was consent, an invitation. Benji grabbed Ethan’s wrist and forced his hand to rest on his cheek, fingers splaying over his ear and into his combed hair. He leaned into Ethan and bent his arms behind his back to shuck off his jacket whilst taking frantic steps forward, his body colliding with Ethan’s and pushing him into the wall. He felt, rather than heard, Ethan’s surprised intake of breath. Ethan snaked his arm around Benji’s waist and grabbed at his ass, pulling him tight against his solid body. 

Benji thought he was taking control, he was wrong, he laughed into the kiss and let his mouth become pliable for Ethan’s tongue. His blazer was on the ground, Ethan was in his dress shirt with his belt hanging loose, Benji grabbed both ends of it and closed any existing distance between them. They both pulled at each other, tightly gripping and sighing into kisses; their mutual hardness was evident.

Ethan moved his hands from Benji ass and began unbuttoning his shirt, “You do know I was talking about the—ah, bunkbeds, right?” he whispered into Benji’s mouth. 

“Of course, I fucking know.” Ethan pressed his forehead against Benji’s and laughed, their noses bumped together as they both tried to rip their shirts down their shoulders. Benji pulled his belt out completely and felt the jolt of excitement run through Ethan’s body at the feeling of it, he began on his trousers but Ethan stopped him.

“Do you—hold on,” Benji stopped pulling at his pants but continued to suck marks into Ethan’s neck, “Benji—wait, do you think we should be doing this?” He placed his hands on Benji’s shoulders and pushed him back a little so to look him in the eye.

“You don’t want to? Oh, no, if you don’t want to then—we can not—“

Ethan cut him off with a fierce kiss, letting go of his wrists and holding the back of his head, massaging the scalp with his fingertips. “I only meant that if you want to—if we continue from here then I won’t, I can’t—I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

Benji nosed his way forward, biting onto Ethan’s bottom lip and thrusting into Ethan with his hips, he kept the lip between the teeth while whispering back, “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

Ethan stifled a moan best he could, managing to only emit a small pleasured grunt. The silky feeling of Benji sucking on his lip was extremely sexy, he was having trouble thinking rationally while his mind was completely clouded with arousal. “We won’t haph a pwoblem then.”

Benji added some pressure to his bite, the pain was just enough to set Ethan on edge, he spun them around so that Benji’s back was now pressed against the wall. Benji’s breathless moan was right in his ear as he latched his mouth onto the dip between his jaw and neck, right up under his ear lobe. He bit and sucked, circled the tight skin with his tongue to soothe. Ethan popped the last two buttons off his shirt, could hardly hear them scatter across the floor between Benji’s panting and whiny pleas for “more, _fuck_ Ethan, more”. 

Ethan’s hands trailed up and down Benji’s chest, his calloused hands pushing down on flushed, freckled skin. Benji bucked up into Ethan, desperate for more friction to rut against. Ethan slowly made his way down Benji’s neck, taking his time to nibble on his collarbones and suck harshly at the junction between them. Benji keened softly, unable to stop the movement of his hips against Ethan’s, and threaded his fingers into his dark hair; gripping tightly when Ethan decided to push Benji up against the wall violently.

Suddenly, Ethan was raising his voice, shouting, alarmed. Waving his hands in Benji’s face.

“Benji! Hello— Benji! Wake up, man!”

Benji yelled, knocking his head back and out of his hands. He looked up, dazed, to see an amused looking Brandt sitting on the edge of his desk, waving his hand in front of his face. Fuck. He totally forgot he was still at work. Benji muttered an apology and wiped the drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, he’d full-on passed out at his keyboard. 

“Mhm? What is it?” He tried not to look Brandt in the eye.

“I thought you’d be excited to hear that you’ve got a new mission, should you choose to except it. Seems like you were a bit busy dreaming, though.” Brant beamed and nodded towards Benji’s lap, who only then discovered that he’d created quite the tent in his trousers whilst going through his memories.

Mortified, Benji reached for the nearest manila folder on his desk and shoved it underneath the table, covering his lap entirely. He felt the tips of his ears burn. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m so—oh, God. I’m so sorry.” Benji stuttered, looking up at Brandt in horror. Brant only chuckled, giving him a slap on the shoulder and shrugging calmly, he didn’t seem affected by the sight. 

“No, don’t be embarrassed, it’s all human. And look—to be honest, I’m impressed, you’ve only been out for like ten minutes, tops.”

“You’ve been here the entire time?” Benji felt his dignity leave his body.

“Walking around, checking some cables—well, pretending to check some cables. Secretary said you were late for a meeting, told me to come collect you but when I got down here you were snoring. Looked around for a bit—amazing how you focus with all that fucking fan noise—then called me back up to brief me on your new mission.” he said, picking at some grey fuzz on his sleeve.

Sobering a little from his awkwardness, “ _My_ new mission? You’re not coming?”

“Nah, I drew the long straw and am being let off on vacation. I think I’ve deserved it after four years of office and field work.” 

“Well, I mean, yeah, you definitely do.” Benji replied with a genuine smile, “So, what’s this mission you’re talking about? Who’s involved?” _Am I still apart of Ethan’s team?_ Is what he really meant.

“Ethan’s leader,” Benji let out a breath, “Luther’s on board and there’s another agent Sloane’s brought in, he’s a trained assassin with not much history. I was supposed to look into him further but I’m packing my bags as of tonight, so I’ll pass that on to the others.” 

“It sounds exciting— your trip, I mean,” Benji was mainly excited about seeing Ethan again, it had been too long, “do you know where you’re going yet?”

“I was actually thinking about the Bahamas. I’m missing the sun and I need to top up my tan.” Brandt trailed off, looking into the distance of computer cases and smiling slightly to himself. Benji wondered if he was thinking about inviting anyone, possibly a girlfriend?

Brandt turned his head and stared back at Benji, “Anyway, you need to go see Hunley, he still needs to brief you on the mission. You and Luther are being drafted soon, go get the details and a good nights sleep before you head out.”

“Got it. Thanks Brandt, I hope you have a wonderful trip, mate.” He watches as Brandt slips off his desk and walks towards the elevator, almost forgetting about the fading heat under the manila folder.

“You gotcha. Stay safe, Dunn.” Brant shouts without looking back over his shoulder, instead waving a hand in the air as the elevator doors shut behind him. 

Turns out Benji didn’t have to wait that long before seeing Ethan again after all. He hopes this time they can finally discuss what’s going on between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long - i became extremely busy. i hope you enjoy and GOSH thank you guys for all the comments and kudos, it makes me damn day. so happy :)

**Author's Note:**

> i promise it'll get better (at least, i hope it does)  
> thanks for the read/kudo/comment


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